I'm a glitch but you can call me Rosie
by zootycoon346
Summary: When Rosie becomes a Sim in the nearly-perfect town of Sunset Valley, should she stay? More importantly, how WOULD she get back? Lots of adventure, I promise! Each chapter isn't that long, sorry!
1. Don't forget the camera

When the computer started to crash whilst installing Sims 3, it didn't seem obvious that I would get sucked into the game. If I'd had known, I'd probably have packed chocolate with me. And a lot of it. And a hot romantic novel. Ooh, maybe I'd have brought my camera! I *love* photography - that's what I want to do in life! Gotta take a snap of it all. Imagine my face, recorded on film as I was sucked unsuspectedly from behind into it. My mouth, stretched beyond the fabrics of reality with horror, eyes, an entirely unremarkable shade of blue-grey-green, widened with surprise, my eyebrows, floating off into my dark hair.

"No!" I cried, flying headfirst into the screen. My hands flung out to scrabble with the corners, but to no avail. With a drawn out scream that was far too dramatic for an event as ordinary as this, I let myself fall into the spiralling black vortex.

I couldn't move. I felt pain, so much pain, as the sensation of my body peeling off overwhelmed me. Were my eyes open? If they were, all was just as desperately black as with them closed. Hurt! It hurts! Please, make it stop!

Too late; I had boarded the rollercoaster to agony. My body was on fire, the flames tearing at me, I screamed, but no sound came out, and it hurt again, and again and again ... wails blared into my ears, other worldly language, dulling my senses until the fire gradually simmered down. I lay there, a wreck, floating blindly around in blackness, waiting the arrival of the end.

Suddenly, just when I thought the noises, the pain, the world had withered, somebody said ... not a wailing like a siren, no, I could understand it like plain English. What was happening to me!?

"Welcome ... we await your arrival ... in the Design Studio ... your attendace is ... **mandatory**."

The voice was male and indistinct, hazed, even, but he ground out the last word with a metallic edge.

And that's when my troubles did start.

** Oh dear. Poor me ... now start sobbing and load me with the Simoleons! Read the next chapter; I swear I'll update this one it's so bad.


	2. Gum Chewer

Glitched.

That was the only way to describe me. A player might look on at me and think 'Eh!?'. I was shaking, slumped on the ground, trying to snag a few ragged gasps for breath.

"Welcome, Sim 1423768. Please choose a desired name between the next five seconds,"

It was that voice again; very robotic. Very 'computer'. My eyes flicked upward to the point where I thought I had heard the voice from. I was surrounded by this creepy, skin-tight neon blue material. It flowed like water, but was all gungy like the gum you stuck on the back of the radiator when you thought no-one was watching (busted!). Where was this 'person'?

"R-Rosie," I got out, very imaginatively. I mean, that was my name, I could have something ... sexy, elaborate. Plain old Rosie? Too late now.

"Default surname generator initializing ... Rosie Wood. Facial designing in progress."

I gritted my teeth, picking myself from the blue chewed-up-and-then-stuck-on-radiator-gum. Preparing myself for the pain again was the only thought straying into my small mind. I was completely surprised when only a mild trickling sensation spilled like herbal water down my face.

And then ...ohhh ...

Mmm ... the liquid drizzled finely over my features, rivulating in channels down my cotton dress. I should have been unused to the cool contact with my skin, but I felt as if I had been cleansing for hours in an incensed jacuzzi. This was so good, I just had to see what was really happening. My eyelids batted upwards, fluttering my eyelashes.

"Gyaah!" I squawked.

I was staring at myself.

*Tee hee hee! One follower already; I'm so happy!


	3. Design a life and make it hot

Bluish, greenish greyish eyes, wide and fixed with horror, pale eyelashes curling up like petals after the flower of which I was named - my eyes. Curving nose, quite average, dappled with freckles, no hooks, bridges or dips - my nose. Slightly parted lips, unshining, unglamorous, in which far too much food for my slim figure had entered - my mouth. Framing my heart-shaped head were locks of dark brown, draped down in unbridled tangles with fear - my hair. A limp, airy summers dress that hung to my ankles, embroidered with clouds, tinted with silver, lined with gold - my clothes (don't fear, my undergarments *are* here). Me! Me! How in the name of ... of Cleopatras frilly Y-Fronts was I staring at myself!? Only now, the backdrop of that *blinding* electric blue had been replaced with a gentler, homely cream wallpaper. I stood on a beige platform in the form of a circle, an island on a floor of oak planks. A window was to the upper left of me, outlooking a forget-me-not blue sky and a nearby tree showing off a lone, flourishing canopy. "Editing face commencing," announced that uber-creepy robotic voice. Suddenly, my egg and mayo sandwich lurched inside my stomach as my face loomed in closer. My heart thrashed like a caged bird inside my ribs, beating out desperate cries: 'Escape! Escape! You ... you're glitching!' But no, I wasn't glitching up, just zooming in. I'd had Sims downloaded on my PC before, but then it crashed and I had to reinstall it. Whatever; point was, I'd played it before. This could only be a dream, but dreams don't last forever. I was going to make the most if it while I could. "Umm ..." I thought aloud, wondering how to 'redesign' myself, "Hair colour set to default ginger?" I gasped; just like that, my hair had transformed me into a redhead. And yes, redhead is all one word. My grammar is amazing. I took a few closer looks. Yes, that was pretty cool; if I'd known that before I'd have been blonde a long time ago. "Hair colour set to default blonde!" I ordered, much more confident that I wouldn't explode. My hair had instantaneously metamorphosed into a nice kind of sandy-dirty blonde - exactly as I had pictured it. I had, however, expected it to come out as a bright, artificial blonde. Again, I descended on myself to survey the new, beach blonde me. But ... it just wasn't in balance with my profile. Pick again, numpty! Make it ... romantic. "Hair colour set to default fawn!" I demanded. Fawn, as I remembered whilst reading a *sizzling* hot book on romance, is a very pretty light shade of brown. From what I gazed upon now, it looked very pretty on *me*. Finally, I was satisfied. I only lengthened the eyelashes, slimmed myself by about five pounds and changed my PJs to a s-w-e-e-t nightgown before I, very proudly, told the award winner of the freakiest voice of the year (sorry Gollum) that it was complete. 


	4. Lots of Lots

This was crazy.

"Rosie Wood, please choose desired existing lot to be placed in," droned boring-bot 2000. Where was he anyway? I wanted to see what he looke- actually, I would prefer *not* to know.

I gazed out upon a beautiful stretch of grass, where in the valley was clustered a quaint town. The sun was just setting on the horizon, melting into distant hills to spill its rays into the center of the town. Right upon the borders, the unbelievably green pasture faded into a sandy coastal line which was the one thing between the glistening ocean and the land beyond. I'd never imagined Sunset Valley if it was reality. Now I truly knew why it was called that.

"Can they have families already in them? Please?" I added sweetly.

"Yes. Desired lot is ...?"

The mega creep was waiting for answer. I looked more carefully at the lovely little terraces and noticed a rather big one with a teenage girl strolling from the front door. A message popped up next to the house and told me it was occupied by the Bachelors. From my old game, I remembered that they were, like, my *favourite* pre-made family ever. The decision had been ... decided.

"That one," I said stupidly, pointed at the Bachelor's house.

"Saving game. You will be transported in three ... two -"

"Wait!" I cried,"Stop! I don't want to-"

Too late. My scream was cut off and the world hazed into inky blackness, dragging me into it as well.


	5. Autumn Salad

"I think she's dead."

"There you go on about 'death', Morty ..."

Two voices aroused me; one a serious, deep, male voice, the other an amused, light female voice. My head felt uncomfortably hot, and I could feel my hair tickling me as it was sprawled over my face. Already, a wave of nausea surged up in my throat, like a plug of lava buiding up inside a vocano. I blinked several times to rid my eyes of spiralling black dots. The spots hazed into a fine veil of darkness, then the veil thinned until two faces swam lazily infront of my view. I inhaled; Bella Bachelor and Mortimer Goth! Recognition must have flitted briefly across my 'new and improved' features because the corners of Bellas lips tilted upwards into a smile.

"You seen us before? Everyone has; we are unfortunately famous. I doubt I have seen even one article in the newspaper that doesn't mention us. There's even paintings of us! Although," she added, shooting a teasing glance at Mortimer, "I'm more famous. When I said paintings of 'us', I meant me. There're no paintings of poor, grumpy Morty ... aw."

"I'm not grumpy!" retorted Mortimer, shoulders hunched high and eyebrows set in the very picture of grumpiness.

"See? Denial of obvious moodiness ... sweet. That's why I'm dating him."

A faint, pink tinge settled over Mortimers cheeks.

"Come on ..." he mumbled, "I'll fill in the' famous Bellas' gaps in her nonexistent explanation. You need a *lot* of filling in ..."

Now it was Bellas turn to blush. She shook her head quickly, her long black hair flying around her head.

"Whatever. Listen up. You fell out of the sky. What the what?! You hit your head off the car bonnet, and you've been out for half an hour. But still - how did you fall through the clouds? Are you some kind of fallen angel?!" rambled Bella.

"Humour her. She enjoys speaking fluent psychobabble. Now, Bellas mum's prepared some Autumn Salad earlier on ... I'd eat it if I were you. She grows the best lettuces around," Mortimer intervened.

I inclined my head in a light nod, propping myself up on my elbows. I was on a sofa, my head pillowed on the arm, both my legs draped over the other arm. Prints of flowers decorated the outer layer of the seat. I didn't notice anything else. Why didn't I notice anything else? The whole world was tinted with grey at the edges of my field of vision. Bile threatened once again to come erupting from my mouth. I didn't trust my stomach right now, so I pressed my lips tightly together until they drained white. No talking for the talkative.

"Now," said Mortimer, taking on an earnest tone, "Where do you live? Or are you moving in someplace? I've not seen you at school before."

Damn it, goth boy! Do you desire to be plastered in vomit? Obviously so. I was nearly persuaded by my evil conscience to grant this wish of his, but then my inner angel reminded me that he, and Bella, have been overly kind to me, so I hastily pushed this stray intention from my mind. Inhaling, I swallowed down to keep the nausea at bay.

"Moving in. No place to go, though," I managed to get out.

"Is that a plea?" came a familiar voice. Bella appeared in the doorway, filling in for the previous emptiness.

My eyes brimmed with guilt. I hadn't meant to sound so needy; but the truth was that I had nowhere to go, and tha creepy voice thing had said that I would now live in the Bachelor house. This should have been all worked out by the game! But that thought just drew a sigh from my lips. I could not rely on the game - now that I was in it, it just wasn't a game anymore. No ... this was reality.

"So it was *you* that mum got a call from? You're the transfer from Riverview who's renting out the spare room? Why didn't you *say*?!" Bella realised, clapping her her hand to her face in awareness, "You don't have to beg if there's already an arrangement!"

Obviously, she was just as surprised, and relieved, as I was. So it had been sorted out already ... phewee!

"Thank the golden jellyfish!" I exhaled, then gasped. Golden jellyfish?! Where had *that* come from!? But both sims just smiled and visibly relaxed.

"Glad to know you're a sim," said Mortimer.

"What he means is that you had acted all weird before," added Bella hastily, giving me a reassuring glance before pecking Mortimer on the cheek and drifting from the room.

So sims found random comments on golden jellyfish ordinary? A flashback of playing with some pre-made sims on my old game, of Bella flirting with Mortimer about golden jellyfish, told me that it was so. Amongst sunflower seeds and hourglasses it was a seemingly popular topic. Mortimer gazed back over his shoulder, his eyes glazing dreamily for a split-second where Bella had just floated out. Then he got hold of his senses. As if to make up for his brief zoning out, he offered me a hand up from the couch. I took it gratefully as I was certain that I might sway off into the wall or something else unwanted without the support.

"You've got the hots for Bella bad, huh?" I purred. He blushed a crimson that was previously unknown to simkind.

"N-No. I'm not *obsessed* with her. I ... like her, of course; why else would we be going steady?" he retorted, "But I'm not, like, overly crazy about her."

"Tell that to somebody blind."

"Shut up. Your food is going cold."

I made witty comebacks at him all the way through my salad.

**Sorry it took so long to update! I wanted a longer post this time, so it took longer. Don't be shy to follow, favourite, or even REVIEW:D!


	6. A Shoulder to Spare

** **I'm sorry it's quite a short one, but is it enough to make you cry? I know I nearly did ... :(**

My bed is cosy, cosy, cosy. My pyjamas are soft, soft, soft. My pillow is plump, plump, plump. My body is motionless, motionless, motionless. My tears are many, many, many.

"Mummy ..." I whispered hoarsely into the pillow, "Daddy ..."

I tried to drown out my sobs in the case, but they just emerged as sad chokes. Where was I? What was happening?

'You're fourteen, Rosie,' I thought, biting back both my tears and my teeth, *'Get a hold of yourself.'*

"I'm not real ... I don't even exist anymore ... I'm a simulation in a computer. I don't know how that is happening. I don't even care," I wept softly.

The tear-stains seeped through the thin cotton, welling up into a patch of sadness on the pillow. Moonlight shone upon my face in pale rays, illuminating my features. Illuminating the face that wasn't mine.

So many sobs welled up inside me that I choked. I changed myself! I wasn't even me anymore! I changed the one thing here that could possibly remind me that I did exist; myself. But I had thought it was all a dream ... and maybe it was, in a way.

Only this wasn't the sort of dream you could wake up from.

"Stop ... make it stop ..." I moaned, crying myself into the smallest ball I could muster.

'*It will never stop,*' smirked a cruel voice from the back of my mind, '*You've sealed your fate.*'

I hated the voice. I hated it so much - because it was right. I had decided my destiny.

I was just about to cry again when an unsure knock on the door intervened. At first, my brow just furrowed; who would be knocking on my door in the middle in the middle of the night? But then I remembered that the bedroom was on some kind of rent and that I shared the lot with the Bachelors, and got out in what I thought was a normal tone, '*Come in*', but my voice betrayed me with a choked hiccup.

The beam of nighttime fell slanted across her face, just enough for me to recognise the girl; Bella Bachelor. She truly was as beautiful as all the Sims Wikis go on about, with her dark hair framing her tanned face in long locks, her hazel eyes looking on in pity at my paled face and puffy eyes, and her lips upturned slightly in a sad smile.

"Trouble sleeping?" she whispered. I knew that what she meant was, '*Is there a reason for you crying? *'.

"I ... r-really miss m-mum and d-d-dad," I admitted tearfully, raising my hand to my face to wipe away the tear-tracks.

Wordlessly, she toed her way over to my bed in her softly sunset-orange dressing gown and planted herself next to me. The bed creaked in submission. And then she just opened her arms wide and I fell into them, whimpering in grief.


	7. What I Hate About the Sims

Of course. How had I not seen it coming? One night in the world of Sims and I was already forced to partake in *education*. The mention of it was so light that I nearly missed it. I was halfway through a flavoursome dish of apple pancakes at the time.

"So, you looking forward to school?" asked Bella casually, skewering a quarter of a waffle on her fork.

"S-School!?" I spluttered, spewing bits of pancake in a two-metre radius around me.

"Eww, gross!" said Bella disgustedly, raising the back of her hand to her cheek to wipe off the crumbs I'd accidentally sprayed onto her, "And yeah, school. What, have you never heard of it? Were you home-schooled?"

School. School. One tiny word, one meagre syllable, of pure devastation and horror. "I-I ... no, no ..."

School. School. The very tone struck cold fear through even the toughest of hearts.

"Oh, good; anyway, it starts in half an hour."

School. School. Aaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggggggghhhhhhhh!

"Wait, what!?"

I resurfaced from briefly warped space and time to Bella's enquiring expression.

"But I don't have a uniform! Does the Community School for the Gifted have school uniforms? Is it free? Do I pay for lunch? I don't have a bag!" I squawked, almost toppling backwards out of my chair. Poor Bella was doing her utmost best to retain a smile.

"It's completely free. You just use your inventory, obviously. And no, there are no uniforms," she said slowly.

Inventory?! What was a -

Just then, something nudged aginst my hip. It was a wriggling kind of nudge, like something desperate to escape from my pocket. Bewildered, I fumbled with the comfortably padded innards of the locket and retrieved ... a phone?

"Oh, wowzers! The latest model! You lucky thing!" exclaimed Bella, clapping her hands together in amazement. Still utterly confused, I went along with it and smiled modestly.

"Every cloud has a silver lining," I reminded her; this saying made no sense whatsoever in that context, but I just felt like saying something smart.

So my pocket was my inventory? From my earlier game-playing of the Sims 3, I remembered that the phone was in the inventory, so that made my pocket my inventory. Come to think of it, you could fit all sorts of things inside your inventory: turtles, Ambrosia, catfish, you name it. It seemed that my pocket was now actually a bottomless pit.

"Oh my dollar signs ... but still, school's in half an hour and it takes twenty minutes to get there on the bus. Ten minutes!" Bella warned me.

* * *

I got changed in half of the time restriction - what to wear? Something fashionable, for girls to revere me, something cute, to get the boys' attention, and something *me*. In the end I decided on a pretty lilac camisole and faded denim jeans to go with it.

The other five minutes were devoured by brushing my teeth, washing up my plate and helping Bella fix up her hair.

The telltale rumbling noise of an impatient engine pulled up by the letterbox outside. I practically screamed with mixed excitement and fear when I saw the distinctive yellow vehicle stall for us. I'd survived my first day at secondary school once; I knew how to do it again.

And the best way to start it was to thank the bus driver on the way to the seat beside the window.

****Here we go, quite short, but hey. Looking forward to the next installment? Of course you are.**


	8. Pink Overload

The first thing you noticed about them was that there were two. They were transparent, but thick too. Double-glazing? I wasn't even sure why I was thinking these things, but I guess that having been transported into a computer game makes you see even school doors differently.

"Hey! Is that Rosie?"

I recognised the voice calling to me almost instantly, despite the panting that distorted it; Mortimer. A smile found its way to my lips and I pivoted on the balls of my feet. Glands of perspiration clung to his brow, his whole face looking generally sunburned from exhaustion, as Mortimer staggered up the steps to the door and slumped against it, gasping.

"Didn't see you on the bus," I said to him. His pupils latched onto mine and I found him staring coldly at me.

"I ran."

Oh. When pity stole my expression he closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

"Where's Bella?" he asked, eyelids still drooped.

"Eh? Oh, she abandoned me and went inside with a bunch of her other friends," I replied flatly. Traitor!

She'd agreed to guide me through the day when we were on the bus. True, as I gazed out of the window at the beautiful, rural scenery moonwalking by outside, I didn't think I'd actually *need* any help getting through the day, but still! The moment the bus pulled up outside the Community School For The Gifted, Bella was nearly stampeded by a swarm of over-excited teenage girls. Mostly blondes, I thought, and for some reason a twinge of jealousy flared up inside me.

"Bell-eee! Bell-eee!" they had shrieked, hugging themselves and dancing around as if the pavement was made of hot coal, "You'll NEVER guess what happened last night with Candy and Ethan!"

Through the bustle of hyperactive students I could just make out Bella's face; it was practically radiating excitement! Not annoyment, from being so forcefully taken from me! And THEN she let out a little scream of craziness and *rushed after them* into the school, giggling and whispering and shrieking! I stood there, gobsmacked.

"Ah, thought so. Candy and Ethan became an item lately, and she's been very ... 'involved'," Mortimer contemplated out loud, jerking me back from simmering moodily in my memories, "You know, how they'll be each others 'equals' because she's a kleptomaniac and he's good ... em, anyway, you fancy being shown yo your classes?"

I pounced upon this offer eagerly.

"Yes yes *yes*! Oh, please do!" I cried, tugging at his black jacket. He stumbled backwards into the entrance, which gave way to him and he toppled into the lobby, sprawling at the receptionist's desk.

"*Mortimer*!"

The voice was shocked, not harsh, but you could still tell that this receptionist was not one to be messed with.

"Is that *you*, Goth?!"demanded the receptionist again.

"Yeah, Miss," admitted Mortimer reluctantly, but then grumpily added, "But it wasn't my fault!"

As if to complete his mood, he shoved his thumb back at me.

The receptionist backed up from beneath the counter - she must have been ducking down for something - and followed Mortimer's thumb to my embarrassed figure.

Hot pink, I told myself, remembering the colour palette on Create A Sim for favourite colours, must have been *her* colour of choice. From her big, lipsticky pink smile to her tacky, fake pink nails, her pink killer-heels to her pink, winged half-moon spectacles, there was no other word for it; she liked pink. The only exception was her socks, which deviated in the fact the tone of pink was lighter.

"Now, Mortimer, is that *any* way to treat a new sim?" she chastised him, then added in a kindly tone to me; "Sorry about that, deary. Now, it's Rosie, isn't it?"


End file.
